


Aftermath

by sorchafyre



Category: The Loadout/Stay
Genre: Gen, Jackson Browne, Music, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-11
Updated: 2011-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:09:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorchafyre/pseuds/sorchafyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A visual of the scene during Jackson Browne's "The Loadout/Stay".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Some songs inspire ideas, some provide atmosphere or mood, this is the only piece I have written directly transcribing the action of a song; Jackson Browne's "The Loadout/Stay". Music is not religion, but it is sacred to me. I believe this will be a richer experience if you listen to the source song either directly before or during reading of this piece.

The house lights had come on nearly twenty minutes ago, and the detritus of the concert littered the floor of the auditorium like abandoned children, lost in the crowd beneath the harsh overhead kegels. Perhaps a hundred people were lingering in the hall, after the concert, some unwilling to admit the magical experience was over, some hoping to catch a glimpse of the bands, some just waiting for traffic to clear out. Whatever their reasons, every single of them were surprised when slow piano notes echoed out into the cavernous space.

Slow and soft, the melody was offered from the Challenger's stage, drawing every eye to the flat expanse of wood, where the man behind the piano seemed to be playing for an audience far away. His eyes were distant, body gently rocking, while his music gathered itself, coiling out from the black lacquered instrument like a smoky ghost. Seemingly oblivious to the attention riveted on him, the man began to sing.

The song began softly,describing the scene around him with acid honesty, an aching, emotional assessment of the moment- the soaring joy of performing and the longing for more, a haunting plea for time. Breathlessly, the small audience listened with a smattering of applause as the rest of the band joined him on stage, filtering quietly to their instruments in a show of solidarity and agreement. No other voice was raised, and although the pianist had only a handful of vocals during the previous show, his strong, clear singing gave the piece definition, held the spell of the music strong and sure as one by one his band mates entered the mix. Keyboard notes melted down like raindrops, falling like grace in benediction. Drums rose beneath him, supporting the structure, offering a place for the music to rest and a solid platform to launch the steady bass that was the next to join. It wove around the lingering piano notes, gathering energy, power to move the melody. giving of itself with the satisfaction of an essential job done well. The guitar slipped in over it all, gave color and lift to the vocals, curved them from longing to love, slid the song from a wish for stability and time to a celebration of doing what they loved, joy for the music and swelling pride.

Challenger played. They poured out their devotion to the music, the fans, the experience that filled them night after night, paid for gladly with displacement and lack of stability so that each of them could live for a few hours in something larger than themselves, a synergy of humanity and melody that lifted each soul beyond time and the earth.

Suddenly the lights snapped on across the auditorium on the second stage, on the opposite end of the auditorium's oval. Drums thudded out as Van, lead singer for the Buffalo Lightsabers, grinned with devilish humor, skating out words along with the pianist. A laugh rang out from Challenger's side of the room, acknowledgment of the inevitable. The two bands had been on the same bill after all, and the friendly rivalry added a spark that made each band better than they ever had been before. Their music was different, styles miles apart, but the strange synergy between them drew appreciative crowds everywhere they went.

As the scant audience watched entranced, the two bands melded seamlessly into another song. Whether one of the instruments began it, whether it was some unspoken musical cue, or whether it was something they had joked about backstage for years none of those watching knew, but suddenly the music swelled, grew to fill the huge arena, bubbled over with life and delight. The combined sound shivered through each soul present, and if the eyes of each band member met their counterpart's across the room in perfect understanding and harmony, it was perhaps no surprise.

The song could have lasted hours, or taken several minutes, time seemed to have no power in the face of the deep, bright ecstasy evoked by the music. At last, as if at some unguessed signal, the melody drifted to a close. Without fanfare, without bows, without a glance at the stunned, approving crowd, the members of the band lay down their instruments and slipped from the stage.

The man at the piano was the last to leave, closing the lid to his keyboard in the reverent silence, as the roadies claimed the stage and began packing them away.

**Author's Note:**

> Neither Challenger nor The Buffalo Lightsabers are existing bands. The Lightsabers belong to Bardicsidhe, Challenger was a collaborative effort between us.


End file.
